


Untitled (SPN)

by thefairhedgehog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 06:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18162368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairhedgehog/pseuds/thefairhedgehog
Summary: Dean comes back to the bunker after being away for a year... what will he find?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic I've had saved for years, but I never wanted to publish because it was meant to be an actual fic, but it's a one-shot now. I'd love to hear what you all think. I may post random fics here and there, but I don't know when that will be. I'm also posting on my fanfiction.net site as thefairhedgehog.

The faint smell of whiskey was the first thing that filled his nostrils as he made his way down the steps and into the map room. The bunker was dark. Dust particles flying around here and there. It seemed as though no one had lived here for years. But he knew that wasn't true. They had been living there for over a year now. Without him, but still living there. It made no sense. The lights were always on, even when they were gone. You could always hear the soft sound of Sam's fingers hitting the keyboard on his laptop or Jenna's music playing somewhere in the bunker. No, not the bunker, their home. But not today. Something was wrong. Everything had been wrong since a year ago, but this was different.

He slowly made his way through the hallways, gun raised. No Sam. No Jenna. Nowhere in sight. He went into every room possible, but nothing. That was until he heard the faint sounds of soft singing. And crying? He followed it to a door at the very back of the bunker, the spare room they had kept Sam in when he was going— he didn't want to relive that again. The closer he got, the easier it became to distinguish the sounds. It was someone crying, a woman. And the song playing in the background, country? Hey there mister Tin Man, I'm glad we talked this out….He knew that song all too well.

Jenna. He thought to himself.

"Jenna?" he called out softly as he slowly opened the door, gun still raised. He called her name again, this time tucking his gun back into his pants. What he saw broke his heart more than he cared to admit. It was Jenna in that room, only it didn't look much like Jenna. The person in that room was sickly thin and pale, lying face down on the floor with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and an old book in another, sobbing softly. As he took in the sight of the room he saw empty bottles of whiskey scattered on the floor, pages ripped out of books everywhere, maps and newspaper clippings on the walls, and angel and demon traps on every visible surface.

"Jenna, sweetheart." He said on the verge of tears

"Dean?" came her low and hoarse voice, as if she hadn't spoken in a long time. She hiccuped and got up, slowly, and faced the wall.

Her name escaped his lips once again, a mere whisper this time. She looked up expressionless.

"HA!" she suddenly exclaimed, "Nice one! Fucking hallucinating now Jenna!" She laughed out loud, dropping the book and bringing her hand to her head. "Fucking hell Jenna." She closed her eyes and started crying again, "you gotta…keep… it…together girl…you'll never… never bring him back this way," she whispered to herself between soft sobs.

Dean stepped further into the room, came up behind her and gently hugged her, "It's me, Jenna. I'm really here."

"No. No. This is just some Grey's Anatomy shit." she said more to herself than to Dean. "I'm fucking delusional!" she laughed out loud again, "fucking hell…"

He turned her around gently, cupping her face between his hand once he had done so.

"No Jen. It's me. I don't know how, but I'm here again." He hugged her tightly.

Jenna just stared at him, not knowing what to say or do, still trying to process what was happening. Her brain was still foggy from all the drinking, but deep down she knew this wasn't a hallucination. Dean really was back and holding her in his embrace. His name escaped her lips, almost like a soft prayer, wishing that this was all real and she wouldn't wake up to an empty bunker anymore. But it was too much. The alcohol, the crying, the lack of sleep, and now Dean. She pulled away to look at his face. She smiled at him, her eyes lost focus, and she went limp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's part two. I figured I'd write something in my week off. I don't know if I will post more.

Darkness slowly began to retreat from her mind, but with every centimeter of light she grasped, it seemed as though darkness wanted to take back double. She struggled in her mind for what seemed like hours. But how long had it really been? Minutes? Hours? Days? In the far reaches of her mind, a faint memory danced around of Dean calling her name. Dean looking at her with worry written all over his features. Dean's scent mixed in with the god-awful stench of whiskey and sweat. Surely she had made it up. He could not have come back after so long. Not unless Sam had found a way to free him. But that was impossible.

As the darkness became light, she became aware of her physical being. Her head was throbbing, body aching, throat dry. She tried to sit up but her body would not respond to her commands. She was probably still too drunk. How long had it been since she had something other than whiskey to drink? Two months? Three? It didn't matter anyway. Just that she was still alive to try to find a way to bring him home. To bring Dean home. Dean. Dean.

The thought made everything come back into perspective. Dean had been there. She had seen him. She was sure of it. She slowly opened her eyes to find herself laying in a familiar room - her room. Her desk lamp was the only source of light, but someone had tipped it so it would be much dimmer than it should have been. Slowly, she sat down on her bed, dizziness and nausea quickly overpowering her senses, causing her to tip over off the bed.

Laying on the floor for a few minutes was all she could manage until her head stopped spinning and she no longer felt like her head was falling backward while her body stayed upright. When she finally made it onto her feet and eventually to the door, she no longer felt like she was going to fall flat on her face and puke her guts out. She grabbed a pen that was laying on her dresser and made her way out. Curse her for having taken every fucking gun in the bunker into the panic room. Stepping out onto the hallway, she noticed light coming from the library area. She slowly and carefully made her way towards it, pen firmly grasped, ready to kill anyone that could try to hurt her. I mean, she had never killed anyone with a pen, but she had managed to seriously injure. She rounded the corner, stepped up into the room, and saw Dean, nursing a drink with one hand and turning pages to an old book with the other.

Her throat still felt like sandpaper, but she willed the words to come out. "Hands up. Who are you?"

A startled Dean was standing before her, gun drawn and pointed at her in a fraction of a second.

"Jesus Jenna. What the hell?!"

"Answer the question," she spoke in a low, raspy, but almost lethal tone, "Now."

"Jenna, it's me. It's Dean," he answered, but he could tell she didn't believe him.

"Who are you? And don't bullshit me again or I will kill you before you can even tell me to stop.

"I promise it's me. Look I'll even show you." He lowered his weapon gently and placed it on the table. He knew that even though she was only holding a pen, she wasn't bluffing, he could have it sticking out of his neck in the blink of an eye.

"Easy Jay," he spoke softly again. He slowly went through every physical test that he could think of that would prove he is the real Dean Winchester. With every test he thought he would pass to prove it to her, she did not even blink. She just stared at him, ready to attack. When he finished, he looked at her.

"Please Jay, it's me," his voice wavered and his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. That lowered her defenses slightly, but she didn't let him see.

"Promise made in 1993. People, place, medium, promise, and reason. Now."

"What?"

"You heard me. Now."

"Give me a second."

"NOW!"

"Alright, alright," he raised his hands as if surrendering, "July 21st, 1993. You and I were sitting in Bobby's back yard by that tree Sammy had fallen off of when he was like eight. Remember Bobby almost killed us because Sammy dislocated his thumb and I jammed it back in and we hid it from him for two days?"

He chuckled at the memory. "We sat there, it was way past midnight. We had snuck out to watch the meteor shower. Sammy was asleep and wouldn't wake up no matter how hard I kicked his bed, so it was just you and me that night. I remember I looked at you and told you we should make a promise. You told me it was impossible to keep a promise, but I convinced you anyway. We promised to be open and honest with each other, no matter the situation, or how uncomfortable it made us feel."

Jenna's eyes began to water, but she would not let any tears fall.

Dean gave her a look that could only be described as longing and sorrow mixed together, "We promised that it would be the number one rule in our friendship for as long as we were alive, even if we weren't friends anymore. We shook on it and swore 'cross my heart and hope to die.'"

He didn't know if he should continue, but he did anyway. He looked down, almost as if he was afraid to say the next part. "And when we went to bed that night, when you were already asleep, I made you another promise. That I would remind you that I loved you, no matter what it meant to either of us, even if—"

"Even if you didn't like me very much at that moment." Jenna finished for him.

Dean looked up, confused. "You…?"

"I was awake, but I was too tired to speak. So I just pretended to be asleep. I heard you. And I made the same promise to you in my head." She finally let her tears fall freely. She dropped the pen and ran to Dean. Her Dean.

He didn't mind that she collided with his body full force. All he cared was that he was able to hold her in his arms once again. They both cried, letting go of everything they had been holding in for the year they were apart.


End file.
